My Tree


My Tree

This morning I was thinking about the big tree in front of my house. I love trees. When I was young I would climb trees.  My grandmother had a tree in her front yard, and I would climb it every time I visited, picking up the tiny inchworms for inspection.

So, I was thinking about my tree in front of my house today.  I just love her.  I think of my tree as a “her”, as Mother Earth.  I began to think about her and the seasons.  Come Spring, she grows beautiful leaves.  These leaves are her children.  She has these children all Spring and Summer, and then slowly Fall arrives and her children change.  Her children, her leaves, fall.  They leave.  Leaves leave.  They blow away, get raked up and bundled away.  Her leaves are gone from her.  I wonder what my tree feels about her leaves that are now gone.

And then, the tree is barren for the winter.  Is she sleeping or is she grieving?  Does she just accept the loss of her leaves?  And come the next spring, she grows new leaves.  Is it just the circle of life or is she trying to recapture the children that she lost?

It is an interesting question to me.  Everything that is alive has a spirit.  My tree has a spirit.  That’s my tree, and she has a spirit.  I wonder how she feels.


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